


Clean Slate

by Ren (FahRENheit2006)



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Desperation Play, F/F, Gap Filler, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Past Relationship(s), Spoilers, Suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 05:19:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11822040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FahRENheit2006/pseuds/Ren
Summary: Spoilers up to episode 2x10. Waverly made her deal. No looking back. And Nicole has some explaining to do of her own.Filler fic for how the cure scene might have gone down behind closed doors with a desperate Waverly (includes bonus Nicole perspective). Canon-compliant.





	Clean Slate

**Author's Note:**

> Wayhaught angst practice. Feedback appreciated since I haven’t written Waverly before and I’m aiming for authenticity. 
> 
> My poor tormented Purgatory children really need a vacation, though.

There was always a low clamor to this place. Distant arguing voices, staticky intercom requests, grinding gurney wheels, clacking computer keys and beeping machines accompanied a sterile smell of hand sanitizer and fake lavender. These ugly hospital halls were getting too familiar for Waverly Earp’s liking.

Nothing good ever happened here.

This time, though… Waverly was gonna make her own good. She **had** made her own good, despite the cost. But she could deal with that later.

Waverly strode through the Northern Memorial ICU hallway with purpose, one fist tight around a purse strap and the other tight around a small glass vial. Her heart hammered in her throat. She was struggling to breathe through her nose to hide how close she was to hyperventilating.

A flash of a familiar pink dress slowed Waverly’s pace, forcing her to detour over to a bulletin board and pretend to study it. The blood pounding in her ears almost muted the nearby conversation and she had to swallow to stay steady.

“—‘m sorry, Mrs. Haught.” A male voice laced with regret. Waverly flinched at the name.

“It’s Doctor. Dr. Pressman,” the woman in pink corrected, her voice strained. “You’re the specialist from the city they were waiting on? What’s her prognosis?”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Pressman. It’s—I’m at a loss. In 40 years, I’ve never seen anything like this. And I’ve treated my share of animal bites and poisonings. …We’re out of time. And options.”

Waverly’s breath caught in her throat and she clutched the vial to her chest. Her destination was just three doors down, but not while she was in view of—of… **witnesses**.

Dr. Pressman— **Shae** —sighed. “What if we up her dose of propofol? Keep her in a coma? Or—God forbid—amputate the source of infection? Shouldn’t that slow it from spreading?”

All Waverly could see out of the corner of her eye was an agitated elbow motion from the male doctor half-hidden around the corner. “Whatever this is, it—she’s not staying asleep. We’ve even exceeded the maximum safe dosage, which should have stopped her heart by now.” The arm reached out to touch Shae’s wrist. “It’s spread too far to contain. Her organs are shutting down. We can’t keep her blood pressure low enough to maintain the coma. She’s… she’s suffering. Have you discussed her end-of-life wishes?”

That phrase almost allowed a strangled cry to escape Waverly’s throat. She swallowed again and shivered in her heavy leopard-printed coat.

Shae ran a hand over her forehead and eye, smoothing away a tear from her cheek. “I—I don’t… No, we didn’t.” She straightened. “She—she has a… **friend** —friends… working on some sort of anti-toxin. Please. Is there anything we can do to buy her more time?”

The man crossed his arms and shook his head. “Not without causing greater pain and suffering. And I don’t know who these ‘friends’ are, but no one has notified this hospital of any research developments. …Even if a cure were possible at this point… the damage has already been done. I’m sorry, Dr. Pressman. We’ve done everything we can.”

There was a soft murmur about paperwork needing to be signed, which caused the other woman to sniff loudly as she nodded. The doctor gestured for Shae to follow him before both figures disappeared around the corner.

On the bulletin board in front of Waverly, there was an ad for a handy-man. “Fix your front door, your back door, and everything in between! Just call Big Mike!”

It reminded her of Nicole’s broken house... She’d had time to stare at that house while the paramedics worked. Waverly remembered it all when she closed her eyes, the familiar details all wrong. The crushed coffee table, the front door off its hinges, a broken lamp near the kitchen… and a dark stain on the living room floor.

Other than that, though… it was almost like that little house had been waiting for Waverly to return. Her favorite blanket was still folded and draped on her side of the couch. A second empty wine glass was left out by a half-full bottle of red, the little unicorn charm Waverly had picked out at a liquor store wrapped around the stem. A DVD rental they’d planned on watching That Night still sat on the player, unopened ( _and racking up late fees probably_ ).

Waverly had paced the first floor of that house in a fury, refusing to let Nicole out of her sight. But she had gone into the kitchen for just a second to yank handfuls of tissues out of the box next to the window.

On the kitchen table were the brochures they’d spread out for a road trip to the Pacific Ocean (late May or early June, they hadn’t decided yet). One of the end tables was still stacked with books Waverly had wanted about baby names and demons (not related… hopefully). A bird’s nest of yarn peeked out of that same end table’s drawer, an exercise in futility as they spent a drunk evening on YouTube trying to learn how to knit baby clothes for Wynonna (Waverly had more skill but Nicole had more patience).

Part of that still made Waverly angry… that Nicole was just **waiting** for her to forgive her, that she had just **assumed**. But that heat burned out a moment later when she remembered the EMTs shout that Nicole wasn’t breathing…

A sudden throb of pressure made Waverly aware that she had been worrying her teeth hard on her lower lip. She could still feel the indentation as she skirted down the hall and slipped into Nicole’s room.

Locking the door behind her, Waverly felt a different stab of anger. _How could Shae be so **calm?!** How could she just—She was her—her wif—! _ That thought fled Waverly’s mind the second she caught sight of Nicole, the anger replaced by panic.

It had been less than an hour since she had last visited the woman, but it had been a cruel hour by the looks of it.

The bob of red hair was slicked and clung to deathly white cheeks, also shiny from sweat. Nicole’s hospital gown had wet patches on her chest accompanied by an array of cold packs, evidence of a recurring fever (and attempts to break it). Ugly black veins branched out from the bandage on Nicole’s wrist, briefly hidden under her gown only to spider their way up her chest and neck.

But that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part made Waverly bite down hard on her cheek to keep from crying.

The only other sound in the room, other than a dripping IV and a rapidly beeping machine, was Nicole. She wasn’t peaceful and quiet like Waverly had left her. Instead, she was whimpering. Her breathing was shallow, each gasp for air followed by a groan. Her brow was stitched in pain, a steady stream of tears rolled down each cheek, and agony was evident in the vein at her neck and the grit of her teeth.

Waverly suddenly realized those exhaling moans sounded like words.

One was “Please God.”

The next “Make it stop.”

“I’m sorry…”

“…Waverly.”

 _“My love… she has iron in her veins…”_  

That propelled Waverly forward, dropping her purse and coat on the floor as she rushed to Nicole’s side. “Baby. Baby, I’m here. I’m here.” She had to clear her throat to get that last word out above a whisper.

Waverly swept the chair over to the opposite side of the bed so she could keep an eye on the door. Grasping at Nicole’s hand, Waverly tried to lace her fingers through but found the woman’s fingers stiff and curled. They trembled slightly, muscles spasming and clenching of their own accord. She ran her hand along the bandaged wound and felt a disgusting heat emanating from Nicole’s wrist. The white gauze had swirls of red, black and yellow seeping through.

_Oh God. I’m too late._

The panic in Waverly’s chest pushed her to run her fingers through Nicole’s hair, almost on instinct. “I’m here. I just need you to hold on. Hold on, okay?” She didn’t know when the tears started, but they felt like they had always been there.

There was a flicker of recognition in Nicole’s face as she turned toward the sound of Waverly’s voice. Her eyes tried to open but they squeezed shut. Each ragged breath was a jumble of words. “Please… please… make it stop. If you—if you can’t… it’s okay—Wynonna said she’d—oh God please… it burns…”

“I know, baby,” Waverly whispered back as she stroked Nicole’s hair and cheek. “I got it. You’re gonna be okay.” She wasn’t sure she believed it. But she’d come too far to stop now.

Pulling the vial forward, Waverly popped out the red jeweled cork. Red liquid sloshed gently inside. She pressed the bottle to Nicole’s lips, but the woman had clamped her jaw shut.

“Baby… I need you to drink this. Please. Please, baby.”

Nicole nodded before pursing her lips, but her teeth wouldn’t cooperate. She gasped for air and groaned in frustration, her eyes finally opening a crack. The warm brown eyes were bloodshot and glassy. There was even a relieved smile, a crinkle around her eyes before a shuddering inhale. “I’m—I love you… I just wanted to—one last time—I…”

“I told you, we’re not doing this now.” It was hard for Waverly to sound cross while crying. She sniffed loudly to steady herself. “Please, Nicole. You gotta open your mouth and drink this. It’ll make it stop, I promise.”

The eyes closed, but Nicole gave a terse, shaky nod. Her chin quivered as she readied herself. There was a jiggling sound at the door. Someone was trying the knob.

Waverly patted the woman’s cheek to soothe her. “On three. Okay, baby? Then it’ll stop.”

Another nod, though the stream of tears down Nicole’s cheeks had resumed. The shuffling outside turned into frantic knocking. A muffled question behind the door.

“One.”

Waverly leaned over and kissed Nicole’s forehead, then her brow, then her cheek. More frantic knocking at the door.

“Two.”

She kissed Nicole’s lips this time, deep and sure. There was a trembling response and Nicole managed a smile. The knocking grew louder as panicked voices shouted for keys.

“Three!”

When Nicole parted her lips a small bit, Waverly upended the vial through a haze of tears. It took a fraction of a second for her to pull the bottle out and clamp her hand down over Nicole’s mouth, fearful she might spit out the precious liquid. Nicole coughed and writhed under Waverly’s hands, but she stilled a moment later.

“Nicole? Nicole!” Waverly screamed as she hopped up. She leaned over and shook the woman’s shoulders. The machine on the opposite side of the bed beeped erratically. Knocking outside had escalated to panicking banging as someone ordered her to open the door. There was a scraping of keys. But Waverly refused to look away from Nicole’s face.

Surging upright in bed, Nicole awoke with a loud gasp. Color flooded her cheeks. The black veins retreated back down into her wrist. Nicole shook with a staccato of coughs as the red in her eyes cleared to a pristine white.

Nicole’s breathing steadied before she laid back down, her shoulders going limp against the bed. She wrapped her hand tightly around Waverly’s as her eyelids flickered closed. She passed out immediately, but this time her expression was peaceful.

Suddenly, the hospital door flew open with a bang.

An orderly and two doctors rushed into the room, glaring daggers at Waverly. One doctor raised his cell phone to call security when the other stopped him with a look of shock at Nicole. “Is she—?”

There were questions, of course. Both doctors peppered Waverly with questions for a few minutes, but she just sat there smiling with tears streaming down her cheeks. She feigned ignorance, saying she was just saying goodbye when suddenly Nicole had gotten better.

They all shook their heads, examined Nicole’s vitals and ordered blood tests, but murmured words of relief as they left Waverly alone (this time with the door wide open). A nurse at the far desk across the hall kept a watchful eye on Nicole’s room.

Just as Waverly’s adrenaline was starting to wear off, Nicole stirred once more. Waverly leaned over and started stroking her red hair again. Force of habit. “Hey you,” she said softly. 

The eyes opened, a familiar warm brown. Her smile was radiant. “Hey Waves,” Nicole replied.

“How are you feeling?”

A few tears escaped Nicole’s eyes, but she was still smiling. She winced and shot a look at her wrist. “Like I fought a demon.”

“That’s cuz you did, baby.”

“Did I win?”

Waverly chewed her lip, which was starting to ache from all the worry it had taken today. “Don’t you remember?”

Looking up at the ceiling, Nicole’s brow furrowed. After a few seconds, she shook her head. “No. I—I remember… Mercedes at the house. Then you showed up, you kicked her ass… You were on the ground and I was—I was…” Another head shake. “It’s all hazy after that.” Her gaze met Waverly’s, intent and focused. “Did I get to say sorry? Because I am. I am so so sorry, Waverly…”

Waverly managed a rueful laugh as she wiped her cheeks with her palm. “You did. We were gonna have a big Sorry Party later and get it all out. But not right now, you need to rest.”

“Was it you?”

The question threw Waverly off guard. It sent her heart racing all over again, a guilty panic taking over.

_…Yes and **Yes** because of the fight and—and Rosita and the Widows and you got hurt and—and the cure and oh God—_

But Nicole was smiling, soft and gentle and adoring. “Did you figure it out?”

 _Oh_.

A mixture of a laugh and a sob caught in Waverly’s throat. She had to brush aside yet more tears on her cheeks and shook her head. “Um, no. It was—it was a miracle.” Her long hair fell over her eyes to hide her face. Hide the lie.

There was a soft “Waves” as Nicole pushed herself upright to wrap Waverly in a tight hug. Waverly sniffled, the exhaustion from her frayed nerves just threw her into that embrace and she felt like she was drowning.

It was the first time in weeks where Waverly had a moment to sit still for one frickin’ minute, and she desperately wish she hadn’t. She sobbed into Nicole’s shoulder, the stress from the last **hour** and **day** and **week** and—it all just hurt so much.

Everything was so **stupid** and **shitty** and **broken** and Waverly was stupid and shitty and broken with it. She was upset about being upset, or that she wasn’t upset about the right thing or wasn’t reacting the right way. She made the wrong choice, knew it was wrong from the beginning, but she would still make it again in a heartbeat. Everything else had gone so wrong for so long, too. _Was it ever going right? Before the Widows and Black Badge and the stupid goo demon and Willa and Bobo and—and…_

“Shhh shh shh shh shhhhhhh,” Nicole whispered into her ear, kind and soothing. Fingertips rubbed circles on Waverly’s back. It was so nice and quiet and **safe**.

Movement at the door caught Waverly’s eye. A flash of pink.

_Oh God._

But Shae didn’t enter, she just stared at the back of Nicole’s head. Her dark eyes were watery with relief when she looked over at Waverly. A nod of respect as she mouthed _“Thank you.”_ Her hands clutched at a collection of forms which she quietly ripped in half length-wise. Hefting her purse over her shoulder, the woman backed away from the door and headed down the hall towards the hospital cafeteria, cell phone in hand.

They pulled out of the hug and Waverly felt a gentle finger brush away her tears and sweep her hair behind her ear. It was soft and tender and so _Nicole_. It agitated Waverly for some reason, making her stand up and push away. She pulled at her own hair nervously and backed towards the door, stuttering, “Do you—do you need something? Water or tea or—or… Maybe an extra blanket? I’ll get you an extra blanket.”

That same soft “Waves” gave her pause. Nicole patted the side of the bed, inviting Waverly to sit down. “Please. Please don’t go. We don’t have to talk. But please don’t go.”

An echo of the last “please” from Nicole’s lips… it was too close to the agonized pleading from earlier. Reluctantly returning to Nicole’s side, Waverly clasped her wrist and rubbed a thumb along it. Nicole only smiled softly, a curious wonder in her eyes.

“There’s—there’s something—a **lot** of things—I have to tell you, Nicole…” Waverly said slowly. She felt her nose wrinkle, unsure where to begin.

An excited shout at the door jerked Waverly and Nicole to attention.

“Waverly! I’ve got great news—!”

Wynonna Earp burst into the room waving a small black vial of her own.

_Oh God._

The pleased smile on Wynonna’s face broadened to a glow of delight when she saw Nicole.

“Haught Damn! You made it!!” The Earp sister exclaimed as she rushed across the room to tackle Nicole in a strangling hug, which made Waverly recoil. A familiar seizing panic was creeping back up her chest. By now, Waverly was certain she was about to throw up from stress.

There was a soft “oof” from Nicole as Wynonna pulled her close, followed by “Okay, just… still not at a hundred percent, so… maybe less squeezing?” But the smile was evident in Nicole’s voice.

“How??” Pulling back, Wynonna held Nicole’s shoulders to inspect her. Her blue eyes flicked over to Waverly for a second then back to Nicole.

“No one knows. I woke up and I felt completely fine,” Nicole said with an incredulous laugh. “It’s a miracle.”

This time, Wynonna’s eyes lingered on Waverly. The intensity forced the younger sister to drop her gaze. All of Waverly’s remaining energy was focused solely on keeping her from bursting into tears. 

“It’s… something…” Wynonna exhaled, her joy dissolving into hurt. She grasped the vial in her fist tighter. “I told you to wait. I gave you my word I’d get a cure… and I did.” She waved the bottle for emphasis. 

Waverly stared at her hands, her long hair starting to fall over her eyes.

“Waverly,” Wynonna demanded. “What did you do?”

It was too much. The dam inside Waverly broke. With a gasping cry, she leapt off the bed and ran out the door. She managed to sweep up her purse in her wake, but ignored the two women calling her name at her back.

As Waverly pushed through the double doors into the frigid Purgatory air, she heard a ping on her phone, followed by two more. It wasn’t until she reached her familiar red Jeep did Waverly stop to look at her phone. If it was Wynonna or Nicole, she was about ready to throw the phone out a window. 

It wasn’t.

[Unknown sender: “Shorty’s.”]

[Unknown sender: “One hour.”]

[Unknown sender: “My price will be paid.”]

 

* * *

Nicole watched after Waverly with a tearing sense of loss. She had seen the woman’s face scrunched up in pain, her eyes red and raw. Nicole started to stand up to follow, but her legs trembled weakly and forced her back to the bed.

“What’s going on? Wynonna?”

The older Earp sister stood before Nicole, her face contorted in silent rage. A single tear rolled down Wynonna’s left cheek as she took in a shaky breath. After a few seconds, Wynonna shook her head and smiled weakly at Nicole. “Glad you’re back, Haught. Rest up. You’re gonna need it.”

Murmuring a confused “Okayyyy?” as Wynonna strode out, Nicole slowly laid back down into bed. She poked around the nearby end table to see if her clothes and phone had been delivered when there was a tapping knock at the open door.

“You were right, Nic. Small towns can be pretty damn exciting.”

Nicole’s head jerked at the voice in shock. Sure enough, there stood a familiar woman. The pink dress was a far cry from the purple scrubs Shae usually wore.

“Shae? What are you **doing** here?”

“Your Sheriff called. Said it was bad. And I’m still listed as your—“

“—next of kin,” Nicole finished with a dry swallow.

She struggled to piece together the day, but it was all a blurry haze. Nicole had flashes of talking to Wynonna, and another of a forlorn Waverly, though it was all through a filter of burning pain. She couldn’t remember hearing Shae’s voice at all.

A click of high heels as Shae dropped into the chair next to Nicole’s bed, her purse and coat folded cleanly in her lap. Despite how put together Shae looked, there was a line of mascara running down both cheeks and her black bob had a few errant hairs.

Panic gripped Nicole as she realized what Shae’s presence meant. “Oh my God. Shit. Waverly. Does she—?“

“She knows,” Shae interrupted. But her smile was gentle. “She’s something, Nicole. I can see why you stayed.” A drumming of fingertips on her purse. “I’ll admit, I was worried about you moving out here. Small towns can be… small. You know as well as I that—that people aren’t always kind.” She didn’t elaborate, but Nicole caught her meaning.

“Waverly is different,” Nicole said defensively. “Purgatory is **different**.”

_And how._

Shae nodded, her cheek pulled tight in an impressed smile. “I can see that.”

“Oh God,” Nicole groaned as she draped an arm over her eyes. “Everything’s been so insane. I hadn’t told her yet. She must be so hurt.” _Again_.

A sarcastic retort. “Uh **yea** , Nicole.” But then a small smirk. “You always were shit at timing.”

Pulling her arm away, Nicole stared at the ceiling tiles. She had been so briefly free of feeling shitty and guilty around Waverly.

_And still, she’d stayed. And she obviously did something to save me, despite everything, even if she didn’t—wouldn’t?—admit it._

_I need to call her. No more not talking. We need to talk about everything. Get it all out in the open._

She glanced over at Shae and saw a glimmer of gold on her finger. It caused Nicole to sit up. “You’re wearing your ring?”

Shae twisted the ring off to examine it, a tan line absent from her finger. “Of course. I came prepared to fight. In case anyone tried to tell me I shouldn’t. Or couldn’t.” Her voice was hard with significance as she ran a manicured nail through her hair.

“I told you: Purgatory is different.”

“It’s different until it’s the same,” Shae said sharply as she slipped the ring into her purse. But she softened. “...But I believe you. Your boss, he was very nice and didn’t bat an eyelash. Your… Waverly… she fought for you.” An appreciative nod. “I’m glad for you, Nicole. I really am.”

“So…”

“So,” Shae echoed as she pulled a manila envelope from her purse. She placed it on the bed next to Nicole.

Confused, Nicole pulled at the sheaf of papers inside the envelope. Her eyes widened when she saw all the legal documents, her own signature scribbled at the bottom from years ago. There was a blank space for Shae’s name still.

“I told you I’d hold on to these until you asked for them. So, Nicole… are you asking for them?”

A series of memories flashed into Nicole’s mind. A few were of Shae, Vegas, the fights, the talks, the promises to stay in touch, stay **friends**... But most of them were of Waverly… her smile, her laugh, the quiet times curled up on the couch, the crazy times with a shotgun in hand, first kiss, first date, and so many firsts to come…

Nicole nodded and handed the divorce paperwork back to Shae, who already had a pen in hand. She clicked it nervously, but she had a broad smile. “Honestly, if someone had told me this was the best-case scenario after getting that call this morning, I don’t know if I would have laughed or cried.”

A few moments passed with only the sound of turning pages and scribbling ink. The sound of freedom.

With a final pen stroke, Shae tucked the papers back into the envelope and stood up. She waved the envelope with a flourish before slipping it back into her purse. “I’ll send it to my lawyer and get you a certified copy. You’ll have to send me your address.”

Another nod from Nicole. Shae leaned over and clasped Nicole’s hand.

It felt weird to just say goodbye. Nicole asked, “Are you leaving right now?”

Dark hair swirled as Shae shook her head. “Red-eye in the morning. Staying at a hotel next to the airport.” She pulled out her phone. “You guys don’t have Lyft here, do you?”

Nicole laughed ruefully. “Not a chance. No cab company in town. You might ask the info desk for Big Mike’s number. He gives rides to the seniors around town. Sometimes goes to the airport. Will fix your porch for cheap, too. I got a great deal on mine.” 

_Probably will need a new front door, too._

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Shae smiled. “Does he accept credit cards?”

“ATM at the liquor store.”

“Of course. …Well…” Shae started, but just continued smiling. Her eyes were slightly glassy as she squeezed Nicole’s hand one last time. “You take care of yourself, Haught.”

“You too, **Doctor**  Pressman.”

Leaning over, Shae kissed Nicole’s forehead. She took one last glance back before rounding the corner for the exit.

Nicole laid there for a few minutes, trying to process the day. But there was time for that later. She had wasted enough time with miscommunication and giving space and avoidance. Digging around the end table, she did find her pair of jeans from this morning. A dark stain dribbled down the left leg, the spot stiff with dried blood. Inside the back pocket was a familiar iPhone.

Unlocking the screen, she saw her open text message history.

[Waverly says: “Dear Control Freak. I will talk to you when I want to talk to you. Until then, have a nice life hurting the people you love.”]

It still stung. But she swiped a thumb over it and hit DELETE. No more pretending things are fine, no more living in mistakes, no more not moving forward.

Nicole took a deep breath before calling Waverly. Part of her was afraid it would go straight to voicemail like it had for the past week.

Not this time.

“Hello?” Waverly’s voice was small and uncertain.

“Hey.”

A long pause and the sound of a throat clearing before “Hey. How are you feeling?”

Nicole smiled. “Still tired, but I’ll be fine.”

“That’s good,” Waverly said with relief. “That’s good.”

An awkward pause.

“Listen… Waverly…”

“I have to go,” Waverly interrupted.

_Not this time._

Holding the phone gingerly, Nicole murmured, “Wait, please. Please, Waverly.”

Another pause. Nicole rushed to fill in the space. “I just wanted to say thank you. I don’t know what you did, but I know you did something. And I’m so grateful, baby. You—you don’t have to tell me. Just… thank you and I love you. Okay?”

She could hear strained breathing on Waverly’s end, followed by a half-choked “Okay.”

“Just… can we talk tomorrow? Visiting hours start at 10, I think. I have so many things I want to talk to you about, in person. And I’m so sorry and I just… I want to get past this. I know we can get past this. Please just let me explain everything. Please, Waverly. Then you can decide and I’ll support whatever you decide, okay? Even if it’s—just… I promise I’ll support you.” It was hard to keep from crying, but Nicole held it together.

“Yea. Okay,” Waverly replied.

“Okay… Good night, Waves.”

“’Nite, Nicole.” The line went dead.

Sighing, Nicole settled back into the sheets. An older nurse came by to check her vitals before advising her to get some sleep. With the lights off, she drifted off within moments. 

* * *

Nicole’s eyes flew open with a gasping breath. She sat up in bed, her shirt clinging to the sweat on her back. It took her a few moments to adjust her eyes to the shadows. She groped at her right wrist only to find the skin there smooth and unmarked. It throbbed for a second but was otherwise fine.

After-images of a dream _(nightmare?)_ burned in Nicole’s mind. _Was that real?_ The pain felt so real, like her insides were on fire. A woman in black, her mouth twisted with fangs. A feeling of hopelessness, of loss, of regret. It felt like dying.

There was a sad mewing at her side and Nicole felt around. Warm, familiar fur. Calamity Jane cried again before curling up in her lap with a purr. Laying back down in her bed, Nicole tried to remember the dream as she rubbed at CJ’s cheeks. She vaguely remembered Waverly Earp was there, sad and sweet and brave.

 _The waitress from Shorty’s? Why her? Why now?_ They had never spoken more than a few words to each other, usually when Waverly brought Nicole her daily chicken salad. She was getting married, after all. _Off limits_. _Something special... but still off limits._

Nicole’s thumb went to the ring around her own finger, always spinning with no real purpose. It was easier this way, pretending a thing that didn’t exist to avoid people asking too many questions. Her phone flickered on the night stand, a series of texts from Shae unanswered from the night before.

The last thought Nicole had before her eyes closed was of the other woman in her dream. This one wasn’t a nightmare, or Waverly, or Shae… she was something else.

Long dark hair, tired blue eyes, cocky grin. She wore a dark overcoat and twirled a comically large gun. There was something about her Nicole couldn’t quite place. But not being able to remember made Nicole feel… empty.

Whoever she was, she seemed important.

But she probably didn’t exist. It was just a dream, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the last episode, Shae's last name is Pressman! You rock, keen-eyed Earpers! (straightandinlovewithwayhaught)
> 
> I’m sorry for this. But I’m really loving the angst this season, honestly. It is delicious and will make a modestly happy outcome even more satisfying.


End file.
